M.T.S. (Missing Time Syndrome)
by dearjoan
Summary: Mulder has been missing for four days, and Scully must find him.


In my endevour to post any and all fanfiction that I've written, I've decided to finally post this 'fic, even though this is only part one, and I have no intention to finish it. Still a decent story anyway. So why not post? Enjoy!  
  
Oh, and if anybody feels like it, they can finish this story. All in good X-phile fun!  
  
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"M.T.S. (Missing Time Syndrome)"   
By Kellyanne Lynch  
Mid 1999   
  
  
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, etc. are all characters belonging to Ten Thirteen Productions, Chris Carter, and Fox Television Network. The concept of the X-files also belongs to the above mentioned parties. I am using these characters with the full knowledge that I did not create them, though I highly admire them and their creator. No infringement intended.   
  
  
Summary: Mulder has been missing for four days, and Scully must find him.   
  
  
Rating: PG   
  
  
Spoilers: "The Blessing Way"   
  
  
* Please e-mail matchbox20orbusted@yahoo.com with questions, comments, theories, complaints, or words of wisdom.   
  
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RING... RING...   
  
  
"Hi, this is Fox Mulder. Please leave a message, and I'll get back to you when I can. Thanks."   
  
  
"Mulder, it's me. If you're there, pick up. I've been trying to contact you all day. You should have called if you were planning a four day weekend..."   
  
  
A hoarse chuckle pierced the gloom that permeated Fox Mulder's apartment.   
  
  
"Please call me. Call anybody. No one knows where you are. I'll talk to you later."   
  
  
As the answering machine closed the message with a beep, a figure shuffled on the sofa. Shifting his weight from his left side to his right, he searched for comfort but found none in the furniture. The answering machine's pulsing light stabbed his retinas, and he closed his eyes. Glancing about the room required too much effort. All he could see was shaded heaps of paper anyway. These papers, once valuable to him, once prized pieces of evidence, now merely cluttered his living quarters. Useless trash! Energy surged through his left leg. The limb shot out, scattering a paper stack. Then the leg, losing all strength, slumped to the floor.   
  
  
RING...   
  
  
He knew who was calling.   
  
  
RING...   
  
  
Dana Scully wanted to know that he was okay.   
  
  
Ring...   
  
  
But he didn't have the strength to reach for the telephone and tell his partner the words she wanted to hear. Nor did he have the will to deliver such a bold-faced lie.   
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Mulder, it's me again..."   
  
  
"Agent Scully."   
  
  
Scully raised her left index finger. Clutching the telephone in her right hand, she turned away from the figure stooped in the doorway of her and Mulder's office.   
  
  
"Where are you? I've..."   
  
  
"Agent Scully, this matter requires your immediate attention. Say goodbye to Agent Mulder's answering machine."   
  
  
"Yes, sir," Scully replied, returning the telephone receiver to its cradle. She slid her chair closer to the desk. Straightening her spine, Scully glared at the figure looming over her. "You wanted to speak with me?"   
  
  
Assistant Director Skinner rested his hands on the desk and leaned forward. "I've been trying to contact Agent Mulder all day. But, apparently, he didn't show up for work this morning. He didn't call in sick or mention he wanted to take the day off. He hasn't informed anyone of his whereabouts. It might be more convenient for me to look the other way. That is, if he hadn't done the same thing on Friday."   
  
  
Skinner moved his face closer to Scully's. "Where is Agent Mulder?"   
  
  
"Sir," Scully breathed as she closed her eyes, "I wouldn't be calling Agent Mulder's answering machine if I knew."   
  
  
Heaving a sigh, Skinner stood erect. He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Agent Scully," he whispered, returning his glasses to his face. "What are you presently working on?"   
  
  
"Just finishing the report that you demanded I have on your desk as soon as possible."   
  
  
"Good."   
  
  
Skinner glanced over his shoulder. Reaching an arm behind himself, he shut the door to the basement office.   
  
  
"I want you to put that report on hold for the time being," Skinner murmured as he drew closer to the agent. "Right now, your job is to find your partner."   
  
  
Furrowing her eyebrows, Scully stared at Skinner. "Why do you have to see him? What's wrong?"   
  
  
Skinner opened his mouth and paused. Leaning his head back, he said, "I, I'm not at liberty to say at the moment. But believe me, Agent Scully, it is in your best interest to find Agent Mulder. And it's in his best interest that he is found. That's all I can tell you." Turning away from Scully, Skinner reached for the doorknob.   
  
  
"Is he in trouble?"   
  
  
Without facing her, he murmured, "He's always in trouble."   
  
  
The door slid shut behind him. Scully stared at the hinges, at the screws that locked them in place. The pieces of metal were so small, but they fastened the hinges to the door, holding everything together. Without the hinges, however, they could never accomplish such a feat. They needed each other. And, with each slam of the door, the hinges and the screws would creak their pangs of impact.   
  
  
When Scully had first met Mulder, she had latched onto the only truth that she had known, a wisp of science that she could grasp, that she could understand and use to examine the unknown. But Mulder held much more. He had opened her eyes to a much bigger truth, one that was still out there, one that needed to be found. And they would find it.   
  
  
But not knowing Mulder's whereabouts was causing Scully to fall apart.   
  
  
She remembered a few years back when she first felt an intimate connection with her partner. He spoke to her in a dream. His sacred words, the ones that made her realise their spiritual link, thumped through her head in time with her heartbeat. "I have been on the bridge that spans two worlds. The link between all souls by which we cross into our own true nature. You were here today looking for a truth, which was taken from you, the truth which was never meant to be spoken, but which now binds us together in a dangerous purpose."   
  
  
The rhythm quickened, and the words pounded faster.   
  
  
"I've returned from the dead to continue with you, but I fear that this danger is now close at hand and I may be too late."   
  
  
Scully grabbed her trench coat as she fled the office. The door swung behind her and rested unlatched.   
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Mulder!" Scully called as she pounded on the door to his apartment. "Mulder!"   
  
  
Sighing, she reached into her coat pocket and retrieved a set of keys. Fingering through each key, she found the one that she had labeled "Mulder's apartment". She slipped it into the keyhole.   
  
  
"Mulder?" she hollered one last time before turning the key and pushing open the front door. The stench of decaying pizza flooded her olfactory. Gagging, she held her nose and admitted herself into the apartment. As she stepped through files and kicked aside dusty sunflower seed bags, her eyes searched the scene. Holding her breath, she approached the couch. Her eyes clenched shut as her fingers sank into the sofa's back cushions. She released the breath and opened her eyes. And gasped.   
  
  
"Mulder!" she exclaimed. She rushed around the couch, to where Fox Mulder laid unconscious. Hunkering down beside her partner, Scully's left hand went for his outstretched neck, her middle and index fingers searching for his jugular vein. He twitched. Scully jumped and fell backwards, onto her behind.   
  
  
"Scully?" Mulder's voice cracked, his eyes focussing on her fiery hair. "What's going on? What are you doing here?"   
  
  
"Mulder, I, I thought that you…"   
  
  
"Thought what?"   
  
  
"That I was too late," Scully breathed, raising her left hand to her face. Her skin burned, and she considered that she must be feverish, or incredibly embarrassed. She drew in another deep breath and released it before lowering her hand. "It's just that you haven't been at work," she explained as her gaze fell to her lap. "And Skinner said…"   
  
  
Her eyes widened as she stared at the blood on her index and middle fingers.   
  
  
"Mulder!" she exclaimed. "You're bleeding!" She glanced at Mulder's neck, searching for a wound, watching as his face lost colour.   
  
  
He shook his head. "I'm not bleeding," Mulder informed her. "You are."   
  
  
Her hand returned to her face and drew more blood. Mulder rolled off the couch. While staggering across his apartment, Mulder found a towel and tossed it to his partner. She buried her face into its coarse fibres, its mildewed stench inundating her nostrils. Her eyes peeked over the towel at Mulder. Tilting her head sideways, Scully narrowed her gaze.   
  
  
"You know what's going on," she spoke through the towel. "Don't you."   
  
  
Falling backward into the couch, Mulder released a sigh. "Scully, why don't you sit on the couch. You shouldn't have to sit on the floor, especially in this dump."   
  
  
Scully thrust the towel to the floor. "Mulder, what's going on?" she demanded.   
  
  
"I'm not sure," he whispered, lowering his head into his hands. "I just know what I saw. And, even with that evidence, I must rely on memory. But whose? Who put these thoughts in my head? They don't make any sense."   
  
  
Scully stared at Mulder's knuckles and watched them turn white. Through his fingers, she saw his eyes clench shut. A tear slipped through the barricade. Scully crawled onto the sofa beside her partner, her chest burning, her stomach tightening.   
  
  
"Where have you been for the past four days?" she murmured.   
  
  
Mulder raised his head and folded his hands over his nose. His eyes met with Scully's. "Scully, where have you been for the past four days?"   
  
  
"Well," Scully breathed as she leaned into the couch cushions. "My weekend was nothing out of the usual. I went to visit my mother…"   
  
  
"What about Friday?"   
  
  
"What about Friday? Mulder, it was a usual day. I went into work, and we…we?" Scully's eyebrows furrowed as she straightened her spine. Her eyes drifted from Mulder's. "That can't be right," she shook her head. "Skinner said you weren't there on Friday. You weren't…" Her gaze returned to Mulder's. "Were you?"   
  
  
"One minute," he replied, "I think I spent Friday with you, catching up on tedious paperwork. But another…" He sighed. "Skinner left messages on my answering machine that state otherwise. But so did you. You said so yourself, that I wasn't there on Friday. But then you said we. What did we do?"   
  
  
Scully licked her lips and answered, "Just as you said. Paperwork."   
  
  
Mulder nodded. He groaned as he slid off the couch and stood. Wading through the papers, he said, "Somewhere in this mess there should be a phone." He found a chord and pulled. A telephone emerged. He tossed it into her lap.   
  
  
"Call Skinner," he suggested. "Ask him if he's gone over the paperwork we handed him on Friday."   
  
  
Scully raised an eyebrow as she lifted the receiver and dialed a series of numbers. She pressed the receiver against her ear.   
  
  
"Hello, this is Special Agent Dana Scully," she spoke into the mouthpiece. "I'd like to speak to Assistant Director Skinner…Good morning, sir. I wanted to ask you about Friday's paperwork. Have you…Yes, I'm sure that…" Scully's eyes widened, and she glanced at Mulder. "Sir, there must be some mistake. I can assure you that I came in on Friday…Yes, I… Have I found Agent Mulder yet?"   
  
  
While shaking his head, Mulder waved his hands in front of his face.   
  
  
"I'm still looking for answers," Scully replied. Smiling, Mulder slid off the sofa and sauntered out of the living room. "Yes, sir. I'll tell you when I find out what's going on."   
  
  
Scully sighed as she returned the telephone receiver to its cradle. "Mulder," she called into the next room. "Why haven't I found you yet?"   
  
  
Mulder wandered into the living room with a damp face cloth and joined her on the sofa. "Until we find out what's going on, I'm on the FBI's missing persons list. Do you need to call your mother to confirm that you weren't there either?"   
  
  
Staring at her hands in her lap, Scully shook her head. Mulder nodded. With the cloth he had retrieved from the kitchen, he dabbed her face. "Ow!" he cringed. "Beneath all that blood, you've got a nasty bruise."   
  
  
Stiffening, Scully reached for the cloth. "I can take care of it."   
  
  
"Shhh! It's okay. Relax."   
  
  
Scully's back arched into the sofa cushions. Leaning over his partner, Mulder studied the purple and gray hues smeared across the left side of Scully's face. He watched her cheeks fill with air and release, each breath taken more rapidly than the last. Her eyelids drooped.   
  
  
"Lie down," Mulder suggested, rising from the couch.   
  
  
Scully opened her eyes and slid down the back couch cushions. Mulder slipped a pillow on the armrest before her head touched down. Holding the back of her neck with his right hand, Mulder sopped up blood with the left. Scully closed her eyes. She felt his fingers individually against the back of her head. They caressed her scalp, then drifted down her neck. The digits were five heat spots, soothing the pang that shot down her spine. Scully leaned her head back, into Mulder's palm. Embracing his partner's neck, Mulder raised Scully's head. He kissed her right cheekbone. His breath warmed her face as his lips brushed across her cheek, to her lips. He kissed them. Sighing, Scully's lips parted. She opened her eyes in time to see her partner wince.   
  
  
"What?" Scully's pupils dilated.   
  
  
"I, uh…" Mulder began, then sighed. "Are you in a lot of pain?"   
  
  
Scully started to shake her head but felt Mulder's hand slipping from her neck. She stopped. "No, I'm okay."   
  
  
"I should get you some ice," he murmured, moving his hands from her. She reached for his right arm.   
  
  
"No," she protested. Her fingers wrapped around his elbow, and he stared at her.   
  
  
Through the fingers he had pressed against Scully's neck, Mulder felt her pulse pounding. He dropped the facecloth. Laying his left hand across her forehead, Mulder asked, "Are you sure it's not that bad? Your heart is racing."   
  
  
Scully's muscles tensed, and she released Mulder's elbow. "Maybe I do need that ice."   
  
  
Mulder arose, his hands slipping away from Scully. She sighed. Mulder left the room and returned with a frozen salmon.   
  
  
"Sorry, fresh out of ice." He said as he laid the dead fish across the side of partner's face.   
  
  
"How can you be out of ice?"   
  
  
"I'm amazing like that."   
  
  
Scully smirked. Pain shot down her left cheek, and she winced beneath the fish. "You know, I really should call Skinner and tell him that I found you."   
  
  
Flopping onto the floor beside the sofa, Mulder sighed. "I don't think the assistant director is so distraught from my disappearance that he wouldn't mind being called at home."   
  
  
"Mulder, it's the middle of the day. Skinner should be in his office."   
  
  
"It's nine o'clock at night."   
  
  
Stiffening, Scully shot up to a sitting position. Her head reeled. She could feel her pulse in her head, stabbing at her left temple.   
  
  
"You've been asleep for five hours," Mulder informed her as he retrieved the salmon from Scully's lap.   
  
  
"But I couldn't have fallen asleep at four o'clock," Scully furrowed her eyebrows. Holding a hand to her head, she continued. "I haven't been here that long. Didn't I wake you up around ten?"   
  
  
"Actually, it was three-thirty. You must have been attacked between the time you left headquarters and the time you got here." Mulder sighed and began dabbing at Scully's face again with the facecloth. "Most of the swelling's gone down. Whoever did this to you gave you Novocaine. It must have worn off by now. Lie back down."   
  
  
Scully leaned into the couch cushions.   
  
  
Returning the fish to his partner's face, Mulder asked, "Do you remember anything now?"   
  
  
Scully closed her eyes.   
  
  
"Go over today's events in your mind," he murmured. Go over everything."   
  
  
Drawing deep breaths, Scully concentrated on every sensation she had felt that day. The shock of finding Mulder unconscious in his apartment, the throbbing pain in her head, Mulder's fingers warming her neck, his sweeping kisses…   
  
  
She gasped when she realised that the last memory had been a dream.   
  
  
"Let's not do this now," Mulder suggested as he rose from the floor. Scully's eyes fluttered open. "How about dinner? You haven't eaten all day."   
  
  
"Okay," she whispered.   
  
  
Reaching for the thawing fish on Scully's face, Mulder asked, "How about salmon?"   
  
  
  
END OF M.T.S., PART ONE 


End file.
